


I Got You.

by GoldieHawn



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Comforting Mickey Milkovich, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldieHawn/pseuds/GoldieHawn
Summary: “You feelin’ okay?” hand still resting on Ian's shoulder. The room grows silent.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 156





	I Got You.

Ian almost always wakes up before Mickey, but today Mickey awakes to his favorite redhead still buried in the covers. He strokes his hand through his hair a few times and watches him sleep. He tends to do that a lot. Ian's eyes flutter when Mickey leans in some more and lets his hands run down his neck, signaling that he’s awake. 

“Stop touching me.” Ian mumbles, eyes still closed. His voice is tired.

“The fuck else are you doing? C’mere bitch.” Mickey smirks as he adjusts his body closer to his husband, but before he can put his arm over his shoulder, Ian turns around, making Mickey’s view of the back of his neck. “What’s your problem?”

“I can’t do it today, Mick.” Ian quietly says, He brings the blanket toward his face.

“Alright I guess I’m the big spoon.” Mickey buries his face into Ian’s neck and wraps his arms around him.

“Stop.”

And with that one word, Mickey loosens his grip. Because he sounded so broken. The realization sets in and a concerned look grows on his face. “You feelin’ okay?” hand still resting on Ian’s shoulder. The room grows silent. That’s what Mickey hates the most. At least when he’s talking he has some sort of motivation. He can tell him to fuck off, or that he needs to be left alone all he wants. But to not say anything is when Mickey really starts to worry. Softer, “Okay...um I’m gonna let you sleep for an hour… and then I’ll come back with something to eat and your meds. You need to take them. Don’t think you’re getting away with that shit.” He leaves the room, looking back to his husband, lifeless under the blankets a few times until he can’t anymore. Mickey calls Vee, letting her know that they’re going to take the day off. The good thing about working for a friend is that she gets it when Ian can’t work and she knows Mickey doesn’t want to leave him. 

The hour passes, like Mickey promised. In the meantime, everyone has woken up, briefly asked about Ian, did their chaotic rushed breakfast, and cleared the house. He comes back into their room with a piece of toast, aside his pills, and a glass of water. He always brings him his pills by themselves whenever he’s in an episode. He keeps every possible harmful thing away from him. Before he even settles, he swipes by the drawer, hiding the gun, the one he said he was going to get rid of but didn’t. He brings himself to the other end of the bed so he can see his husband's face. He sits on the edge, placing down the things he brought up on the nightstand. He throws all of the clutter from it onto the floor. 

“E? You awake?” He brushes his thumb on Ian's cheek. His eyes slowly creek open. They look bloodshot, puffy, and his dark circles are enhanced. Mickey doesn’t speak for a moment. He just looks into his eyes. Admiring how beautiful the shade of green is, and how his eyelashes compliment them. “Gotta eat.” Ian's eyes close again, barely shaking his head. He sits there for a moment, trying to think of what to say. The silence was quite the loudest thing Mickey has ever heard. “Please.” His voice breaks. He’s done this a good number of times, and it never gets easier. It felt like his heart was being stabbed. He hated seeing Ian in pain and he hated the fact that he couldn’t make him better. “Even if it’s just a couple of bites, can you try for me? Or just take a sip of water? Something?... Can you fucking look at me?” He knew it wasn’t Ian’s fault, but he can’t help but lose his temper out of frustration. “Fine, the fuck I care, don’t eat.” He scoffs as he walks out of the room. 

Over the next few hours, he tries leaving Ian alone, but continuously peers through the door as he passes the room every twenty minutes to check on him. For four hours straight he doesn’t move a muscle. Mickey can’t take it anymore, so he comes in again, trying a different approach. 

“Alright I’m not letting you sulk in bed all day so you’re gonna get up if you want to or not.” He comes into the bed with Ian and pulls him to sit up. Ian groans. He can’t hold himself up and leans onto Mickey’s chest. Tears stream from Ian's face, although his expression is still quite blank. Mickey just holds him there, and wraps him in an embrace. He holds the back of his head, gripping at his hair.

“Look I’m not gonna make you take a shower or anything but you can at least come out of the room. It looks like death in here. We can watch TV or something. You don’t need to do a thing.” He’s still not met with a response. A few minutes go by, Ian is still in his husband's hold. He doesn’t show it, but being in Mickey’s arms makes him feel like there’s nothing else in the world. Like he can put everything on pause and just melt into him. It’s the only thing he thinks is worth getting up for.

“Hurts.” Ian’s voice sounds muffled in Mickey’s chest. Mickey is relieved to hear his voice but it hurts him how defeated he sounds. 

“I know…but I got you. We do this together.” He doesn’t like crying in front of Ian when he’s like this, but hell it’s getting really hard. Ian slowly lifts up his head, and their eyes lock together. He looks so numb, but Mickey can see that somewhere Ian is still in there. They can say so much just by looking at each other. “C’mon Gallagher.” Mickey rubs his shoulder. “Before your annoying ass family gets home.” He pulls on Ian's arms, trying to bring him out of bed. He doesn’t really move still, but he’s at least sitting up. ”You’re a stubborn little fucker, huh.” Mickey tries to lighten the mood, mostly because being serious and comforting makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t mind with Ian, though. He’ll do all that gay shit for him. But he still doesn’t prefer it. It doesn’t come naturally.

“If you don’t get your ass up I will drag you down the steps myself. It’s not gonna feel that nice.” Mickey threatens, hoping it will encourage to get his husband out of bed. But Ian looks up and him, and slowly pushes himself up out of the bed. Mickey smiles, not even trying to hide it, and wraps his arm around Ian for support. They slowly make their way down the stairs and Ian collapses onto the couch. The sun glares through the window, making him squint and bury his head into the crevice of the seat. 

“Oh quit being so overdramatic. Get your face out of that gross ass couch. You of all people should know what’s been on it.” Mickey swings himself onto the couch with a beer. He sits Ian up, to find him staring in a daze. Mickey nudges his beer in the air. “You want one?” Ian lightly shakes his head no, not quite in tune to the conversation. “C’mere.” Mickey grabs Ian's chest and pulls him in to lay upright on him. He turns on the TV and brings his face onto Ian's head, smelling his hair. He didn’t get the chance to this morning. Ian slightly turns his head to look back at Mickey. “If you tell anyone I did that I’ll deny it.” 

They continue to watch TV together and as the hours pass, more Gallaghers come home and join them. They stay there for god knows how long and end up falling asleep together on the couch, Ian still lying on Mickey’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first fanfic but I really enjoyed writing it, so If anyone has any prompts please let me know :)


End file.
